


Plan B

by slimesurgeon



Category: Smile For Me (Video Game)
Genre: Bloodplay, Clothed Sex, Fear, Hurt/Comfort, Hyperdontia, Medical, Mutual Masturbation, Needles, Other, Pain, Restraints, Vaginal Fingering, blood consumption, these tags probably look foreboding but I promise all the sex is consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-09 22:03:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20517149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slimesurgeon/pseuds/slimesurgeon
Summary: After successfully foiling Dr. Habit's Big Event, your confrontation with him doesn't go as planned. You wake up at his mercy, your tooth lily missing, leaving you to urgently improvise a way to get through to the softer side of him. You end up getting through to more than that.-Reader is ambiguous gender with ambiguous genitals and is referred to as "Flower"-Reader is selectively mute-Dr. Habit is transgender and has a vagina-Possibly disturbing descriptions of dental trauma, including teeth pulling and blood-Possibly intense emotional scenes, including crying-Teeth pulling is against reader's will, but all actual sexual interaction is 100% consensualPLEASE SEE END NOTES FOR ADDITIONAL WARNINGS IF NECESSARY. CONTAINS SPOILERS.





	Plan B

The last thing you remember was stumbling out of the elevator into the dimly lit waiting room. Your head was swimming; you couldn't tell if you were hallucinating the room rocking like a boat, or if you were simply wobbling that badly from your intoxication caused by machine called Martha. Through your mental fog, you remember empty chairs, a deep voice welcoming you, and then your vision fading to black. 

Now that you've awoken, your vision is still foggy and dark. The rocking seems to have stopped at least, suggesting that you've sobered up quite a bit, though there's a throbbing pain on the side of your head—you presume that's what must have hit the floor first. You attempt to lift your hand towards the pain, but your arm stays in place. Something seems to be restraining you at the wrist. You pull your opposite hand—it, too, stays strapped down in place. Shit. 

A chill rushes through your body and your heart races. You frantically try to look through the still-dark fog of your vision to survey your surroundings. The lights are off, the only illumination coming through the sunrise peering through the window to your right. Looking down the length of your body, you can observe you're in...an examination chair. There's a tray of dental tools beside you. Of course. 

You can't see much else in the room. Despite your ominous predicament, you also can't help but start to fret that you don't see your bouquet anywhere near you. You carefully and painstakingly grew that special tooth lily, hoping it would get through to Dr. Habit as your way of saying you care and you want to help him. Perhaps you may have underestimated the extent of “unhinged” Kamal had described the doctor as being...you didn't quite expect he was the kind of guy to put you in restraints. Still, your heart sinks imagining the lily crushed or ruined wherever you dropped it... That was your best chance at calming Habit down. Without it, you're but at his mercy. 

You gulp in fearful anticipation of whatever is about to happen next. 

You hear what sounds like a door opening behind you, and heeled-footsteps approaching. “So-ree for the wait!” a deep, yet chipper voice announces. You can vaguely make out a very tall figure now standing just a few feet in front of you. Your eyes lock onto his, which are bright orange and almost seem to be glowing with the way they pierce the darkness. 

“I hope you arent'not sleepy any longer! Be-cause it is Time for your operation.” he has an quirky manner of speaking through his thick Russian accent, just like in his bizarre puppet videos. You're unconsciously holding your breath, stumped on how you will possibly communicate with no lily to give, and no hands to gesture with. 

“You seem fright-ened. Is it because you hav figured out who I am all-ready?” 

You soundlessly nod. 

“That's rite!” The man known as Dr. Habit takes a step forward and leans in just inches from your face, his piercing gaze making you feel paralyzed. 

“I'm a... beautiful.. radiant... DENT'ST!” The lights on the ceiling come to life, causing you to cringe from the sudden flood of light right into your wide pupils. You open your squinted eyes a sliver, enough to see the doctor standing in front of the counter a few feet away, sliding one of his hands into a blue latex glove. 

Your vision adjusting to the light, you quickly scan Habit up and down. He must be at least 7 feet tall, and stocky. He appears to be wearing light blue scrubs under a white lab coat with tooth-themed print and... what you can safely assume to be blood splattered all over the sleeves. It's not that you're not concerned about that—because you are—but at the same time, you can't help but think that for someone so “unhinged”, he's a lot cuter than you pictured. 

“It's just you and Me, flower brat. Why you ask? Because you made every 1 else Leave!!!” a second glove snaps in place on Habit's other hand, and then he turns his back to you to gather something on the counter. He has an enormous, impressive mass of reddish-brown hair tied back in a pony tail—also admittedly cute. 

“You ruined my ver-y good plans. This Habitat is a speshul, amazing place where sad, frownie folks come to get their frowns turned upsie down.” The doctor turns back around, brandishing a syringe in his hand. He gives it a few flicks. Your fingers and toes curl and you can feel sweat beading on your forehead. This is bad. 

Habit seats himself on a stool beside your exam chair and leans in once more, dwarfing you under his size even sitting down. “I sea you smirking. Is it because you R impressed?” You didn't even realize you were smirking until now. This really isn't the time to be making goo-goo eyes at someone—maybe the laughing gas is still in your system and messing with your inhibitions. Embarrassed and on the spot though, you nod. 

“Ha! Of Course! But wait un-till you here the rest.. you will truly be in Awe.” With his free hand, Habit cups your chin and prods your lips with his thumb, pushing his way through. “Say 'aaaaah',” he beckons with a smile. You blame being conditioned by yearly dental checkups for the fact that you instinctively open your mouth without hesitation. It's too late to go back now, as Habit's already grabbed hold of your jaw, pushing his fingers against the top and bottom rows of your teeth so you can no longer close your mouth. You squint your eyes shut for a few seconds in frustration, mentally cursing at yourself. 

“Liek I was saying...” the doctor runs his fingers along your gums and inspects them, “If every-one just waited for the Big Event, that's was the right time 2 Smile... but you had to go and meddle and be Greedy and make people all smiley for you in-stead of Me.” 

Your fearful eyes watch the tip of the syringe close in on your face and disappear into your mouth. You feel a horrid burning sensation pierce through a spot in your top right gum and your eyes shut in pain, watering, bracing yourself as you wait for it to pass. You feel another injection hit your bottom gum, burning again, causing you to let out a small sob and a little stream of tears down the side of your head. 

Your eyes jolt open when you feel the doctor's now syringe-free hand cup your cheek tenderly, his thumb gingerly wiping at your tear-damp skin. “Shh.. is not so bad,” he says with a gentle smile, and as the tingling, numbing warmth begins to spread throughout your mouth, you feel compelled to lean into his hand, rubbing it with your cheek ever-so-slightly. You will communicate to this man that you care somehow. It's all you can do, seeing as you'll either make a breakthrough, or he's just going to do whatever it is he's about to do to you anyway. 

Dr. Habit's eyes widen a bit, and he abruptly pulls his hand away before breaking eye contact and looking off to the side nervously. “Ah... eney-way... My Plan is to make the whole world habby. In Or-der to do that, I need dozens and even 100's of teeth.” The doctor's confident smile returns to his face as he reaches for something on the tray of tools. “It all starts with 1 smile, flower brat. One smile makes more and more peeple smile. If may-bee you had a smiel big and powertful enough, you could infect the whole Entire World with smiles.” The doctor grins wide, and that's when you can finally see how... distorted his smile is. Somehow, he has an abundance of teeth in all shapes and sizes packed into his gums, crowded and overlapping. It's...certainly not natural, and you think you know what he's getting at with his monologue. Your stomach drops and you feel the blood draining from your face. 

“Since you cheered every 1 up tho, I hav no choice but to start with you! Are you habby? I'm will be using your teeth for the Greater Good!” 

You shake your head. 

“Thats'is too bad.” Habit's grin twists into a sinister smile as, without warning, a bunch of gauze is packed into the back of your mouth, causing you to gag. “Youre going 2 need that.” 

You try not to hyperventilate as you watch Habit pick up a pair of forceps and lower them towards your mouth. There's sweat beading on his forehead and rolling down his face, and his smile suggests that he is really going to enjoy what he's about to do. You try to shake your head free, but he only grips your jaw harder to hold you steady. Your whimpers of protest are muffled by the gauze and you shut your eyes again, tears once again forming as their edges. You dare not open them. 

“There there... dont move silly-head, or else it'll will only take longer.” 

It's hard to tell exactly what is happening because of the effects of the Novocaine. You feel a strong pressure around where you reckon one of your canines are—the nauseating pressure of tugging and wiggling inside your gum. And then, through your jawbones to your ears, you hear a horrible tearing, crunching, grinding sound, like you could only compare to the sound of snapping cooked chicken bones apart. Your heart pounds against your chest and instinctively, your wrists fight futilely against their restraints. When the noise and pressure subsides, you open your eyes, staring blankly towards the ceiling but really at nothing at all, taking slow, deep breaths. You feel a hot liquid spill onto your tongue and soak into the gauze in the back of your mouth. You know the taste of blood. Your tongue pokes around the empty gap where you're left with a dull throb. Fuck. It's actually fucking gone. He seriously ripped a tooth out. 

“See! Pain-less! Now, jus 31 more teeth to go!!!” Habit drops your tooth on the tray, exchanging it for more gauze to stuff into your tooth gap and replace the blood-soaked stuff in your throat. You can't do this 31 more times. You need to stop him somehow. As terrified as you are, you can see that Habit isn't really... an evil person, per se, just incredibly sick and mixed up about his place in the world. You read his diary, you saw his little art gallery... you just want to make this better somehow. If only you had that lily. 

You suddenly notice one of your wrists has more wiggle room than it did before. The restraint must have loosened—you just might be able to slip your sweaty hand through as long as the doctor doesn't notice. Your eyes dart up back to him to keep eye contact as you work on slowly squirming your hand under the restraint. 

Satisfied with prepping the clean gauze, Dr. Habit's forceps enter your mouth again. “You kno.. I used to b a silly naive person like you... thinking that I could just make everyone happy just bye trying to be nicest I can be...” you feel that pressure again, this time on your opposite canine, “but I lerned when I grew up that some times, you just cant'not help everyone. Some folks just dont want to be smiling, and they waste there teeth, hiding them in frowns fore ever,” and once more, you hear that horrid crunch ring through your bones. You let out another muffled sob, closing your eyes. The largest part of your hand is about halfway through. Your tooth makes a tink as it hits the metal tray. 

Fresh blood spills into your mouth again and you open your eyes to gaze placidly at Habit through your misty lashes. He's gazing back at you, strangely serenely, unlike before. He must have put down the forceps already, since his free hand—now splattered with blood—cups the side of your face. You lean into it again, letting your tears fall down into his hand and blood spill from your numb, open mouth. He caresses you with his thumb again, this time not losing his nerve as you stare at him with half-lidded eyes. 

Your hand is almost through the cuff.

“that's why...” his smile droops into something more somber, “some timbes you hav 2 make sacrifices..” his vice-grip on your cramped jaw softens, letting it settle into a more comfortable open resting position. To your surprise, this time he uses that hand to gauze up your fresh tooth gap, leaving the other against your cheek. Your brow furrows in pity—he really is just a big softie.

“You remind me of Me when I was younger, flower...” he trails off, removing the blood-soaked gauze from your throat. 

Your hand slips out. Your heart picks up pace, pounding in your ears. What to do? What to do?! You have to do something before he finds out—something fast. Your eyes dart around the room frantically, which Habit quickly notices when he looks at your face, confused. 

Fuck. Shit. There's no time to think! Just act! Just do the first thing that comes to mind! It's your only shot! 

You whip your arm up over Habit's head and pull him down as hard as you can, catching him completely off guard, his mouth crashing against yours for you to kiss. It doesn't last long before he bolts up, nearly falling backwards off his seat, his eyes wide and mouth—your blood printed on it like a lipstick mark—agape in shock.

“AHH, WHAA?! Y-YOU'RE SMOOCHING??” his face is completely flushed red and he has a hand over his pounding heart. “B-But why?!” 

You didn't quite expect such a.. dramatic reaction, and so you stare at him somewhat blankly, blinking a few times. You extend your hand towards him, waiting. He lifts is hand and overs over yours for a moment, curling his fingers, staring at it like a frightened wild animal. When he finally lays his palm on top of yours, he looks back at you, still blushing profusely. “I-I don't unbderstand...”

Your fingers curl gently around the doctor's big hand, smiling warmly at him as you pull his hand closer as to beckon him towards you. You can see tears welling up in his eyes, ready to spill down at any second. This poor, touch-starved man... You can forgive losing a few teeth if it means helping someone in such desperate need of feeling anything at all. Sacrifices—just like he said. 

You reach for the side of his face now, ushering it back down towards you in a much gentler manner this time. Nervously, he follows your lead and presses his trembling lips against yours, closing his eyes serenely. Since your mouth is still numb, you're not incredibly good at kissing right now—you can't feel too well and so you sort of just end up slobbering on him, as you can tell from the sensation of drool cooling as it dribbles down your chin. When Habit lifts his head back up, he has more blood around his mouth and a gooey stand of saliva connects you both. His lips are gently parted, and he gazes down at you placidly. Then, he snaps his eyes shut for a moment, and when he re-opens them, they're averting eye contact with you. He wipes his mouth with his sleeve. 

“I-I habent had a kiss since my... my lily all thos years ago...” his hands are pulled towards his chest, fidgeting with one another. His brow furrows and the tears he was holding back finally start falling. “A-Are you tryinbg 2 mess with my head?” He looks at you as though bracing himself for the worst answer. You shake your head no. 

“Is that so... then... you... like me???” 

You nod. 

“You domt hate me?? After everything I did..??” 

You shake your head. 

“I sea...” Flustered, Habit stands up and moves around you to the right of your chair, and unlocks the remaining restraint with a key from his pocket. As you pull your arm in and give your sore wrist a few twists, Habit sits back down. 

“There. U are free 2 go.” 

You cock your head to the side, confused. 

“You can leabve... and I won'tn hurt you anymore.” Habit looks down at the floor shamefully, away from you. 

You shake your head no. That's not what you came here for—not to just walk away and abandon someone in need. And besides... as crazy as it might sound to anyone else in the world right now, as you're sitting here covered in blood and minus two perfectly good teeth, you really do like Habit. If he wasn't so... emotionally compromised, you know that he would be nice—even the ex-assistant, Kamal, had agreed with that much. 

“Wh..... Then wat do you wamt, flower?” Habit sniffles and wipes his damp cheeks. 

You take this time to pull the remaining bloody gauze out of your mouth and toss it on the floor, since that's only going to be in the way of what you want. You extend both of your arms to the doctor inviting him into your embrace, wearing a warm pursed smile and puppy-dog eyes. 

Perplexed and embarrassed, Habit hesitantly reaches over the arm of the exam chair to wrap his gargantuan arms around you. He rests his head over your shoulder, leaving his mass of hair to consume your face. It's soft and smells like... dirty copper, you guess. You don't mind. You squeeze him as tight as your little arms will allow, nuzzling into his neck. His whole body is trembling.

“...No 1 has ever done this before... it feels nice...” 

You plant a little kiss on his neck, and he squeals in shock surprise, his fingers now forcefully gripping the fabric of your shirt. When you kiss it a little harder and just gently lick it, he moans. His clutch on your clothes tightens into fists. 

One of your hands slides up from Habit's back and into his hair for you to not only play with and massage his scalp, but pull enough hair out of your face to plant a kiss on Habit's cheek. His head jolts up to face you, revealing the absolute sweaty hot mess that it is—his eyes wide with longing and drool stringing down from his lip. “H-Hah, flower....I-I...” He seems unable to even begin to articulate the torrent of emotions he's feeling. He's gazing at you like he's in a trance, his hands still gripping your shirt, body still shaking. 

Your mouth is starting to gain its feeling back, which means the Novocaine is starting to wear off, but despite that you take the opportunity to go in for a more proper kiss. You run your fingers through Habit's hair as your mouth meets his, swiveling your head to give your kiss a bit of motion. He keeps his mouth shut tight, which is fine; you lick from his chin up to his lips, and then gently suck and nibble them, before squishing your own lips back onto his for a long hard smooch. His body is noticeably getting less tense and more like jelly melting into you, and his eyes look like they'll roll into the back of his head. You also notice as the kiss goes on, Habit's starting to squirm in his seat. 

Lips still pressed together you needily tug on Habit's collar with one hand, and with the other, you tug his arm, beckoning him to get closer. His eyes are wide and nervous as he takes the cue to get up and climb over onto your chair. He hovers over your body for a moment on his hands and knees before nervously settling into your lap, straddling you. Oh god, you can literally feel through your pants he's soaking wet, right through his pants. 

You grab the collar of his lab coat and tug it forcefully towards you. Habit finally submits to your mouth engulfing his and opens his own for you to explore. The sensation of your tongue hitting his surplus of teeth sends an electric jolt through your body. There are several rows behind rows of teeth that extend past the gums, protruding from places like the bottom and roof of his mouth. It's weird, licking smooth pearly chaotic clusters. But you like it. You start to really feel your own arousal peaking, especially when, strangely enough, you start to think about how it's kind of hot that Habit was going to add your teeth to his freaky oral collection. 

Habit has your head cradled in his hands as he indulges in the pleasure of your mouth. All you can taste is your own blood, and truthfully you did take out your gauze before your bleeding fully subsided, but you safety conclude that Habit doesn't mind, considering the way he seems to actually be drinking it up. His tongue is somewhat inhumanly long (are you even sure he's fully a human? You're not sure), snaking its way around every little bump and crevice of your teeth, taking special attention to the still-sore gaps of your missing teeth, prodding at the empty holes. You shiver at the sensation—it's sure is a place on your body you've never imagined someone sticking their tongue in. 

Habit finally pulls away to suck in a huge breath of air as if he was coming up from being underwater. He grips your forearms, looking at you intently, blood and drool spilling down his chin and neck and soaking into his blue collar. “Flower....!! Ah!! Youre teeth are amaze-ing!!! And you taste so Good!!!!” his short sentences are padded with huffs and pants. He falls onto you gently, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. He's squirming and subtly bucking in your lap, needy and desperate. You wonder if he can feel how aroused you are too. 

Dear god, you want to fuck him. You didn't think your “showing Habit a bit of love” plan was going to fly this far off the rails but, well, here you are and here he is, all but begging for it. It's making your head pound. Wait, actually, that's the pain—horrible, red hot, pounding pain shooting out of the empty, bleeding gaps in your gums, through your bones of your jaw and into your skull like a sledgehammer. Holy shit it hurts! If you were actually at a legitimate dentist, you should have asked for another shot of Novocaine several minutes ago. You yelp and recoil suddenly, throwing your hands over your mouth and wincing, startling Dr. Habit to attention. 

He gasps when he sees your face, scrambling for another syringe from his tray of tools. “Ah..! Flower! How could I bee so care-less?” When he reaches for your mouth you open it compliantly, observing the look of concern Habit has on his face through your squinted, teary eyes. You whimper a bit when the needle sticks you again and you feel the familiar burn of the anesthetic spreading. Habit's looks mortified. You're surprised he was able to inject anything in you with his hands shaking as bad as they are. He appears to be frozen, staring down at you with wide eyes and sweat slowly dripping down his face, seeming to be waiting for you to respond first somehow.

It's guilt. His emotions are so externally obvious he may as well just write them on his face. You can tell that it's really setting in for him that's he's done something atrocious—that he's harmed you, the only person in his recent life (or possibly his entire life) to show him tenderness—and he doesn't know what to do.

Your clenched jaw relaxes into a smile as the pain finally subsides. You hope your wide, tender eyes looking up at Habit communicate that you're okay and not angry. Though, just in case, you grab hold of one of his hands with both of yours and pull it down near your cheek, rubbing circles into his palm with your thumb. Right away you can feel his body become less tense, and his worried face relaxes back into something more tender. 

You begin to plant little kisses on Habit's fingers. Even through the latex glove, you can feel his skin heat up, and he twitches each time your lips touch down. He lifts his other hand over his mouth, fingers curled, blushing. His needy eyes are fixated on your mouth. Keeping eye contact, you slide your tongue—numb and drooling—up the length of his index finger and suck it into your mouth. Habit's eyes widen and his whole body trembles on top of you. Latex and blood is such a bizarre, clinical flavor, but a sexy one nonetheless, and so you take your sweet time sucking the digit clean... and then the next one, and the next... until the poor, whimpering doctor cannot even look you in the face. He's trembling more intensely, moaning little “ooh”'s and “aah”s, and squeezing his thighs as tightly as he can bring them together while straddling you. 

Hiding his face, he doesn't see your mischievous smirk, and so you take him completely off guard when you pluck his slobber-coated glove off and help yourself to the bare skin of a few fingers at once. Habit jolts back to attention and meets your eyes again, dragging his free hand down the side of his burning hot face. “F-Flower!! Wat are you tryimg to do 2 me?!?” You can't smile very big with your mouth stuffed full, but you squint your eyes impishly. 

It seems you struck some sort of chord with him, because the fingers in your mouth suddenly curl over your bottom row of teeth and pull your jaw down rather forcefully, holding your mouth open uncomfortably wide. Shocked—but excited—you witness Habit's expression contort into something full of hunger, and you watch him snap the remaining latex glove off his hand with his teeth. You fling your hands down to the armrests of the chair and grip them as to not get in the doctors way as he shoves his now ungloved hand towards your mouth. His fingers sprawl out as though to cover as much area at once at first—your mouth, your gums, your teeth—feeling around. He's not very gentle this time with you, not hesitating in the least to shove his fingers into the back of your throat and make you cough and sputter. In fact, he grins wider when you do. When your eyes naturally begin to water, the doctor freezes again and wears his familiar frown of guilt. You affirm your enjoyment however with a distinct moan of pleasure and batting of your eyelashes, bringing back his hungry smile. 

Habit draws his fingers back to the front of your mouth as to slide one of them through one of your tooth gaps. He bites his lip as he rubs and presses against your gum, until you feel the sensation of fresh blood drip into your mouth again—whatever clot was there was certainly scraped away now. Habit removes his bloodied finger and sucks it clean before practically throwing his entire weight on you, wrapping you in his embrace and kissing you, muffling his own enthusiastic sounds of pleasure. 

You embrace him back, welcoming his tongue into your mouth to dance around yours and lap at your re-opened wounds. Habit squirms in your lap again, harder this time. You slide your hands slowly down the large man's back until you finally cup them around his hips, pushing and pulling in rhythm with his motion, making him unconsciously reciprocate the added force until he's finally grinding into your crotch with forceful desperation. He breaks the kiss to abruptly exhale and toss his body back into a more efficient, upright position, panting heavily and drool spilling down his chin right into the wet, sloppy mess of your lap. 

“O-Oh F-Flower, I.. I cant'nt take it an-y more...” Habit's voice shakes, looking and sounding on the verge of tears. He half-hides his flushed, embarrassed face behind sprawled fingers, peeking through at you. “P..Please... please..” he whimpers, “touch...” 

You smile eagerly, happy to finally oblige. Truthfully, you feel like you're about to explode, too. Some little voice in your head reminds you for a moment how crazy this all is, but you can't be bothered to think about it more than that. It's too much effort. Right now, the most important thing to you is granting the doctor his wish he so humbly begged for. 

Your dominant hand slides away from Habit's waist and towards the waistband of his pants. He already begins to coo, with dreamy, half lidded eyes as your fingertips make contact with his skin, slipping down underneath the fabric. You travel down through his thick, fluffy hair oh-so-slowly, savoring his little sounds that are less nervous and shaky than before, but rather, now soft and full of bliss. His arms relax and he grabs hold of the armrests of the chair, closing his eyes completely and lifting himself just enough to make room for your cupped hand under his crotch. He's absolutely burning hot and wet as an ocean, slippery fluid coating your hand all over immediately. This peaceful, contented smile he's wearing is one you certainly haven't seen yet on him—but it's a beautiful look for sure. 

His clit is long, and swollen from all the excitement, and that's where you place your thumb while your index and middle fingers each take a lip of his pussy to stroke and play with. You start with tiny, gentle circles on his clit and he coos louder, responding by pressing his body down and grinding right on top of your hand. You let out a sudden moan yourself, overcome by the sensation of Habit's soft, slick folds practically fucking your palm. Now you can't take the wait anymore. With no effort of course, given how wet and ready he's been this whole time, you slide your index and middle finger together into him. His jolts upright and he yelps, which turns into heavy panting and a blissful moan, and his body melts down into its lax state once again. He begins to squirm, his mouth agape and spilling fresh saliva, which you make no hesitation to catch with your free hand until it's nice and lubed and ready for you to shove down your own pants. For a bit, you're glad he's lost within himself and doing all his own work so you can finally start quelling your pounding arousal, rubbing yourself the best you possibly can under your pants and under the doctor. At first, you bite your lip in frustration trying to maneuver efficiently, but once you start to feel a little relief you sigh contentedly, now able to divide your physical attention to multitasking you and Habit. 

Effortlessly you slide another finger inside him and he squeals in pleasure. He bucks and rides your fingers as though they were a dick. He only seems to be getting more lost in it all, sweating more, burning up red, moaning and panting. This scene, of course, is more than enough to already put you on the edge of exploding, but you instead hold back and slow your self pleasure to a steady rhythm so you can savor this. Your dreamy eyes fixate on Habit's enraptured smile until you practically have tunnel vision on his face. Everything else seems so distant and muted—at some point the hand down your pants found its way instead to the doctor's thigh and from there, the next thing you knew your palm was pressed up against his, fingers clasped together. 

“Flower....” Habit's sighs, stopping himself and catching his breath. You can't resist the urge to take advantage of this moment by withdrawing your hand from the doctor, soaked in fluid, and putting all 3 fingers into your mouth to slurp them clean. Your eyes flutter as you moan into the sweet-salty, wonderful flavor. You can see that Habit looks a bit shocked at first, but it fades into a dreamy gaze. His fingers, still interlocked with yours, squeeze your hand a little tighter. He falls onto you slowly and gently, until you're chest-to-chest, and lifts your chin for another kiss. This time, it's quite modest, pressing against your lips softly as his eyes close. 

He begins to pump his hips again, this time his groin flush against yours as to rub you both off through your clothes. Admittedly, in your state, the subdued stimulation is probably for the best, and most definitely feels wonderful. Dizzy with pleasure and the throbbing pain of your wounded gums slowly returning, your back melts into your chair, leaving you near-limp and basking underneath the big doctor. Habit breaks from your lips to plant little kisses on your cheeks and down your neck where he settles to nibble and moan into while he fucks you. You suck in air through your teeth with each inhale to tolerate the pain, and exhale in moans and sighs. It's an intense combination but... you're getting used to it, and perhaps starting to enjoy it a little more than you should. 

Your free hand finds its way into Habits hair and you dig your fingers in to grip a chunk of it, instinctively pulling him closer. He returns the gesture by sinking his teeth into your neck, all but breaking the skin, making you squeal. So many teeth. It fees horrific but oh-so incredible. You pull his hair harder, desperate to get him closer. Not letting up his teeth's grip on your flesh, he grinds you faster. You feel like you're getting close. Moaning and drooling, you release Habit's hair and instead wrap your around around his head like a hug. His weight pressing down on your body feels so right, you want it to last forever—you want him to know, somehow, that's what you want. You don't know at what moment exactly your feelings became that, but they are—despite everything that's happened. 

Habit must be getting close himself, because he suddenly sits up sharply and gasps, pressing down against your groin and grinding it until your hips hurt. You only vaguely remember moving your free hand but it's now interlocked in the doctor's other hand just the same. Your heart flutters and you find yourself gazing at his visage once more—his beautiful (despite the implicit horror of it) grin, and just like that, you go over the edge and orgasm. Your body twitches and spasms as it rides up through you like a slow moving electric shock, scrambling your head and momentarily causing you to see double. Habit watches you serenely, his movements slowed down to a calm stroke to bring you down slowly. You close your eyes for a moment to soothe your head from the physical chaos, drifting for a moment into a dream-like state. As your orgasm fades delightfully with Habit's gentle care, you purr, and a murmur escapes your throat--”Boris...” 

You feel Habit's entire body jolt and come to a complete, frozen stop, and then... new, hot fluid soak through your pants and into your lap. His hands slip away from your and you open your eyes to find that they're covering his mouth, the rest of his face flushed, and his eyes wide and pupils trembling, as though he's embarrassed to have come. It takes you a moment to get your mind together to even realize you said something at all, but once you put it together you easily understand why it's a big deal to him. It aches, but you finally sit up to wrap your arms around Habit and comfort him. He slowly snakes his arms around you too and leans his head on your shoulder. 

Soon enough the silence is broken by Habit sniveling, and then sobbing. Ignoring the intensity of your oral pain growing as much as you can, you rub his back and rock him back and forth slightly, allowing him to just let it out. This was... a lot. His sobbing grows into wailing and hugging you tighter, burying his large frame into your significantly smaller one as much as he possibly can. You feel your eyes well up a bit and your lip begin to tremble, out of sheer empathy. You wish you could do more, but right now, this is all you have to offer. Eventually, it all fades back into sniveling, and Habit whimpering “I'm sorry” repeatedly. You hush him with a kiss. 

Behind you, you hear the familiar, yet very unexpected, sound of the metallic door opening. Both you and Habit snap to attention and look in its direction. 

“H-Hey... uh,” the dark-haired ex-assistant peeks through the doorway, both hands nervously wrapped around the door frame, “I heard some, uh, concerning sounds and then it got quiet and, uh, figured I should check on things...” Kamal hardly shuffles a few feet into the room before he freezes, getting a full view of Habit straddling your lap, the both of you splattered with blood, and your faces beet red. 

“...Oh.” 

“K-Kamal,” Habit scrambles off of you, turning his back to the shorter man and shuffling through medical equipment on the table in front of him, “every-thimg is fine.” 

You look down at your chair and avert eye contact as Kamal approaches your side. He looks incredibly concerned, and it's no mystery why. “Are you... actually okay, bud?” he asks softly, as though he doesn't want Habit to hear. You timidly turn your head towards Kamal, suppressing an awkward smile under your blushing, humiliated face. You nod. 

“Welp! I guess I won't... question that.” He furrows his brow and smiles nervously. “Anyway, I found this on the floor outside. I'm pretty sure it's yours.” He presents your bouquet to you and you eagerly receive it. Face lit up, you mouth “thank you.” 

“No problem. Uh. Should I... Leave you two for now?” 

You avert your eyes again, feeling your cheeks warm up. You nod. 

“Alright. Well. Be safe. And uh, I'll be around if you want to talk to me later about... whatever happened.” He shifts his eyes over to look at Habit, still pretending to be busy and that Kamal isn't there. Kamal purses his lips and looks you over once more before heading back out the door. 

Almost immediately after the doors shut, Habit sighs out the breath he was holding and comes back to you with another shot of Novocaine prepared, and additionally two little paper cups—one with pills and one with water—he sets down on the tray beside you. You open your mouth without protest and welcome the shot to finally quell the pain; as much as you'd at least somewhat gotten used to it, it was still intense enough to make you lightheaded. 

“Thees are painkillers,” Habit says solemnly as he seats himself on the side of the exam chair. He pours the pills into your palm and hands you the water cup. As you take them, Habit reaches for your head and weaves his fingers into your hair, thumbing gentle circles onto the side of your forehead. “I am... soree for wat I have done. I can cleen you up and giv you stitches,” he withdraws his hand from you and twiddles his fingers anxiously, “i-if you trust me. I wuld umnderstand if you don'nt.” 

Instead of answering, you pick up the bouquet from your lap and reach inside for the thing you wanted to give him the whole time you've been in this chair—the tooth lily. You hold it out, and instantly Habit's eyes widen and his mouth falls agape, as though he's seen a ghost. 

“Th-That's—!” Habit seems to be at a loss for words. He slowly takes the flower from your hand and brings it to his face to take in a deep sniff of its fragrance. “I can't beliebe it... You grew this yourself?” 

You nod with an elated smile. 

“I thought I destroyed ebery last seed... only I could eber grow this.” the doctor strokes the petals gingerly with a single finger, staring down at them wistfully. “You red my diary, didmt you?” 

You sheepishly nod. 

Habit holds the flower in overlapping hands, bringing it one more to his nose to smell. He closes his eyes as he inhales slowly, and when he exhales, his eyes open to meet yours. “Flower... you new all the bad thimgs I hab done, and yet you came hear anyway, to gib me this... and you... kissied me and...and you...” he trails off; his face turns red very quickly and his eyes shift to the side shyly. “W..Why? Why me?” 

You don't know how to answer him—truthfully you're not entirely sure yourself. It may have a lot to do with your own past, your own mistakes, and your own imperfections. You haven't always been the best person either, but that's why you've worked so hard to make up for it and put some good back in the world. Habit could do the same... albeit after some serious professional help and an even more sincere, psychologically informed apology for what he did to you... But no one deserves what happened to him, and he doesn't deserve to be alone—that's what made him spiral into well-intended madness. If there could be someone to finally care and hold his hand through it, why couldn't it be you? 

You wish you could tell him all that now, but you're sadly unable. Perhaps later, you could write it all down... For now though, you place a comforting hand on his thigh, prompting him to lay his own on top of yours. He looks down at them somberly at first, but then his mouth perks up into a tender smile. Eyes gazing longingly into yours, he pushes the stem of his lily into your hair above your ear. 

“You are the sweetemst.” 

Your body falls into him as you embrace him, and he pulls you close, this time surprising you by scooping up your much smaller form and cradling you in his lap. Despite everything—your missing teeth and the lingering taste of blood in your mouth—you feel so safe in this position. You reach for his face and he lifts your head up to his, letting your lips meet as you lock your arms around his shoulders. Forehead to forehead and nose to nose, close together, you see your reflection in his eyes. 

Soon, you'll agree to let Habit fix your wounds and soon after that, you'll both leave the office together, and Kamal will help guide you both on how to proceed. But before that, for a long, quiet moment, you'll simply stay like this—close.

**Author's Note:**

> ***SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS***  
***SKIP IF TRIGGER WARNINGS NOT NEEDED*** 
> 
> This fic may be intense for some. This is a very concise summary of the main events that happen. 
> 
> The beginning (based on the in-game scene of meeting Dr. Habit) features reader restrained to an exam chair while Habit pulls their teeth out against their will. Includes descriptions of reader panicking, crying, and experiencing pain. 
> 
> Reader gets through to Habit by kissing him, bringing the unwilling harm to a complete stop and from here on out, all interactions are more tender and entirely consensual to both parties. This is emphasized by Habit freeing reader from their restraints and giving them the option to leave. Reader chooses to stay. 
> 
> Heavy kissing/petting between reader and Habit. Multiple times, Habit feels guilty and apologetic for harming reader and administers anesthetic for their pain. There is a lot of bloodplay/consumption. There is a mild scene where Habit sticks his fingers down reader's throat and makes them gag, which reader enjoys. 
> 
> Sex scene between reader and Habit. This includes the one time reader speaks. After this scene, Habit immediately starts to sob due to his emotional overload and reader comforts him. 
> 
> Kamal enters the room to discover Habit on top of reader, which embarrasses you both mildly. He quietly makes sure reader is okay behind Habit's back. He returns reader's lost tooth lily and leaves. 
> 
> Habit administers more anesthetic and gives reader painkillers. He offers to tend to reader's wounds (implied this happens later post-fic). Reader gives Habit the lily, and there's a bit more emotional exposition before the fic ends with Habit holding reader who feels safe in his arms. 
> 
> *******
> 
> Disclaimer: This fic was written with the fantasy video game logic in mind that getting drugged and having your teeth ripped out would somehow not be too horrible to be Habit's friend in the good ending. This is of course absurd in real life. Do not ever pursue a relationship with someone who physically harms you.
> 
> *******


End file.
